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+ <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" />
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+ <title>
+ The Project Gutenberg eBook of Love Story, by Irving E. Cox, Jr.
+ </title>
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+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Love Story, by Irving E. Cox, Jr.
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Love Story
+
+Author: Irving E. Cox, Jr.
+
+Illustrator: Paul Orban
+
+Release Date: April 21, 2010 [EBook #32078]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LOVE STORY ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Sankar Viswanathan, Greg Weeks, and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+<div class="tr"><p class="center">Transcriber's Note:</p>
+<p class="center">This etext was produced from If Worlds of Science Fiction April 1956. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.</p></div>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
+<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="400" height="569" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/image_001.jpg" width="600" height="488" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<h1><i>love story</i></h1>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<h2>BY IRVING E. COX, JR.</h2>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<h3><i>Illustrated by Paul Orban</i></h3>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<div class="blockquot"><p><i>Everything was aimed at satisfying the whims of women. The
+popular cliches, the pretty romances, the catchwords of
+advertising became realities; and the compound kept the men
+enslaved. George knew what he had to do....</i></p></div>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="36" height="40" /></div>
+
+<p>he duty bell rang and obediently George clattered down the steps from his
+confinement cubicle over the garage. His mother's chartreuse-colored
+Cadillac convertible purred to a stop in the drive.</p>
+
+<p>"It's so sweet of you to come, Georgie," his mother said when George
+opened the door for her.</p>
+
+<p>"Whenever you need me, Mummy." It was no effort at all to keep the
+sneer out of his voice. Deception had become a part of his character.</p>
+
+<p>His mother squeezed his arm. "I can always count on my little boy to
+do the right thing."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Mummy." They were mouthing a formula of words. They were both
+very much aware that if George hadn't snapped to attention as soon as
+the duty bell rang, he risked being sentenced, at least temporarily,
+to the national hero's corps.</p>
+
+<p>Still in the customary, martyr's whisper, George's mother said, "This
+has been such a tiring day. A man can never understand what a woman
+has to endure, Georgie; my life is such an ordeal." Her tone turned at
+once coldly practical. "I've two packages in the trunk; carry them to
+the house for me."</p>
+
+<p>George picked up the cardboard boxes and followed her along the brick
+walk in the direction of the white, Colonial mansion where his mother
+and her two daughters and her current husband lived. George, being a
+boy, was allowed in the house only when his mother invited him, or
+when he was being shown off to a prospective bride. George was
+nineteen, the most acceptable marriage age; because he had a
+magnificent build and the reputation for being a good boy, his mother
+was rumored to be asking twenty thousand shares for him.</p>
+
+<p>As they passed the rose arbor, his mother dropped on the wooden seat
+and drew George down beside her. "I've a surprise for you, George&mdash;a
+new bidder. Mrs. Harper is thinking about you for her daughter."</p>
+
+<p>"Jenny Harper?" Suddenly his throat was dust dry with excitement.</p>
+
+<p>"You'd like that, wouldn't you, Georgie?"</p>
+
+<p>"Whatever arrangement you make, Mummy." Jenny Harper was one of the
+few outsiders George had occasionally seen as he grew up. She was
+approximately his age, a stunning, dark-eyed brunette.</p>
+
+<p>"Jenny and her mother are coming to dinner to talk over a marriage
+settlement." Speculatively she ran her hand over the tanned,
+muscle-hard curve of his upper arm. "You're anxious to have your own
+woman, aren't you, George?"</p>
+
+<p>"So I can begin to work for her, Mummy." That, at least, was the
+correct answer, if not an honest one.</p>
+
+<p>"And begin taking the compound every day." His mother smiled. "Oh, I
+know you wicked boys! Put on your dress trunks tonight. We want Jenny
+to see you at your best."</p>
+
+<p>She got up and strode toward the house again. George followed
+respectfully two paces behind her. As they passed beyond the garden
+hedge, she saw the old business coupe parked in the delivery court.
+Her body stiffened in anger. "Why is your father home so early, may I
+ask?" It was an accusation, rather than a question.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know, Mother. I heard my sisters talking in the yard; I think
+he was taken sick at work."</p>
+
+<p>"Sick! Some men never stop pampering themselves."</p>
+
+<p>"They said it was a heart attack or&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Ridiculous; he isn't dead, is he? Georgie, this is the last straw. I
+intend to trade your father in today on a younger man." She snatched
+the two packages from him and stormed into the house.</p>
+
+<p>Since his mother hadn't asked him in, George returned to his
+confinement cubicle in the garage. He felt sorry, in an impersonal
+way, for the husband his mother was about to dispose of, but otherwise
+the fate of the old man was quite normal. He had outlived his economic
+usefulness; George had seen it happen before. His real father had died
+a natural death&mdash;from strain and overwork&mdash;when George was four. His
+mother had since then bought four other husbands; but, because boys
+were brought up in rigid isolation, George had known none of them
+well. For the same reason, he had no personal friends.</p>
+
+<p>He climbed the narrow stairway to his cubicle. It was already late
+afternoon, almost time for dinner. He showered and oiled his body
+carefully, before he put on his dress trunks, briefs made of black
+silk studded with seed pearls and small diamonds. He was permitted to
+wear the jewels because his mother's stockholdings were large enough
+to make her an Associate Director. His family status gave George a
+high marriage value and his Adonis physique kicked the asking price
+still higher. At nineteen he stood more than six feet tall, even
+without his formal, high-heeled boots. He weighed one hundred and
+eighty-five, not an ounce of it superfluous fat. His skin was deeply
+bronzed by the sunlamps in the gym; his eyes were sapphire blue; his
+crewcut was a platinum blond&mdash;thanks to the peroxide wash his mother
+made him use.</p>
+
+<p>Observing himself critically in the full-length mirror, George knew
+his mother was justified in asking twenty thousand shares for him.
+Marriage was an essential part of his own plans; without it revenge
+was out of his reach. He desperately hoped the deal would be made with
+Jenny Harper. A young woman would be far less difficult for him to
+handle.</p>
+
+<p>When the oil on his skin was dry, he lay down on his bunk to catch up
+on his required viewing until the duty bell called him to the house.
+The automatic circuit snapped on the television screen above his bunk;
+wearily George fixed his eyes on the unreeling love story.</p>
+
+<p>For as long as he could remember, television had been a fundamental
+part of his education. A federal law required every male to watch the
+TV romances three hours a day. Failure to do so&mdash;and that was
+determined by monthly form tests mailed out by the Directorate&mdash;meant
+a three month sentence to the national hero's corps. If the statistics
+periodically published by the Directorate were true, George was a
+relatively rare case, having survived adolescence without serving a
+single tour of duty as a national hero. For that he indirectly thanked
+his immunity to the compound. Fear and guilt kept him so much on his
+toes, he grew up an amazingly well-disciplined child.</p>
+
+<p>George was aware that the television romances were designed to shape
+his attitudes and his emotional reactions. The stories endlessly
+repeated his mother's philosophy. All men were pictured as beasts
+crudely dominated by lust. Women, on the other hand, were always
+sensitive, delicate, modest, and intelligent; their martyrdom to the
+men in their lives was called love. To pay for their animal lusts, men
+were expected to slave away their lives earning things&mdash;kitchen
+gadgets, household appliances, fancy cars, luxuries and
+stockholdings&mdash;for their patient, long-suffering wives.</p>
+
+<p><i>And it's all a fake!</i> George thought. He had seen his Mother drive
+two men to their graves and trade off two others because they hadn't
+produced luxuries as fast as she demanded. His mother and his
+pinch-faced sisters were pampered, selfish, rock-hard Amazons; by no
+conceivable twist of imagination could they be called martyrs to
+anything.</p>
+
+<p>That seemed self-evident, but George had no way of knowing if any
+other man had ever reasoned out the same conclusion. Maybe he was
+unique because of his immunity to the compound. He was sure that very
+few men&mdash;possibly none&mdash;had reached marriage age with their immunity
+still undiscovered.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_g.jpg" alt="G" width="33" height="40" /></div>
+<p>eorge was lucky, in a way: he knew the truth about himself when he
+was seven, and he had time to adjust to it&mdash;to plan the role he had
+been acting for the past twelve years. His early childhood had been a
+livid nightmare, primarily because of the precocious cruelty of his
+two sisters. Shortly before his seventh birthday they forced him to
+take part in a game they called cocktail party. The game involved only
+one activity: the two little girls filled a glass with an unidentified
+liquid, and ordered George to drink. Afterward, dancing up and down in
+girlish glee, they said they had given him the compound.</p>
+
+<p>George had seen the love stories on television; he knew how he was
+expected to act. He gave a good performance&mdash;better than his sisters
+realized, for inside his mind George was in turmoil. They had given
+him the compound (true, years before he should have taken it), and
+nothing had happened. He had felt absolutely nothing; he was immune!
+If anyone had ever found out, George would have been given a life
+sentence to the national hero's corps; or, more probably, the Morals
+Squad would have disposed of him altogether.</p>
+
+<p>From that day on, George lived with guilt and fear. As the years
+passed, he several times stole capsules of the compound from his
+mother's love-cabinet and gulped them down. Sometimes he felt a little
+giddy, and once he was sick. But he experienced no reaction which
+could possibly be defined as love. Not that he had any idea what that
+reaction should have been, but he knew he was supposed to feel very
+wicked and he never did.</p>
+
+<p>Each failure increased the agony of guilt; George drove himself to be
+far better behaved than he was required to be. He dreaded making one
+mistake. If his mother or a Director examined it too closely, they
+might find out his real secret.</p>
+
+<p>George's basic education began when he was assigned to his confinement
+room above the garage after his tenth birthday. Thereafter his time
+was thoroughly regulated by law. Three hours a day he watched
+television; three hours he spent in his gym, building a
+magnificent&mdash;and salable&mdash;body; for four hours he listened to the
+educational tapes. Arithmetic, economics, salesmanship, business
+techniques, accounting, mechanics, practical science: the things he
+had to know in order to earn a satisfactory living for the woman who
+bought him in marriage.</p>
+
+<p>He learned nothing else and as he grew older he became very conscious
+of the gaps in his education. For instance, what of the past? Had the
+world always been this sham he lived in? That question he had the good
+sense not to ask.</p>
+
+<p>But George had learned enough from his lessons in practical science to
+guess what the compound really was, what it had to be: a mixture of
+aphrodisiacs and a habit-forming drug. The compound was calculated to
+stir up a man's desire to the point where he would give up anything in
+order to satisfy it. Boys were given increased doses during their
+adolescence; by the time they married, they were addicts, unable to
+leave the compound alone.</p>
+
+<p>George couldn't prove his conclusion. He had no idea how many other
+men had followed the same line of reasoning and come up with the same
+answer. But why was George immune? There was only one way he could
+figure it: it must have happened because his sisters gave him the
+first draft when he was seven. But logically that didn't make much
+sense.</p>
+
+<p>Bachelors were another sort of enemy: men who shirked their duty and
+deserted their wives. It seemed unreasonable to believe a man could
+desert his wife, when first he had to break himself of addiction to
+the compound. George had always supposed that bachelor was a boogy
+word contrived to frighten growing children.</p>
+
+<p>As a consequence, he was very surprised when the house next door was
+raided. Through the window of his confinement cubicle, he actually saw
+the five gray-haired men who were rounded up by the Morals Squad. The
+Squad&mdash;heavily armed, six-foot Amazons&mdash;tried to question their
+captives. They used injections of a truth serum. Two of the old men
+died at once. The others went berserk, frothing at the mouth and
+screaming animal profanity until the Squad captain ordered them shot.</p>
+
+<p>George overheard one of the women say, "It's always like this. They
+take something so our serum can't be effective."</p>
+
+<p>Later that afternoon George found a scrap of paper in his mother's
+garden. It had blown out of the bonfire which the Morals Squad made of
+the papers they took out of the house next door. The burned page had
+apparently been part of an informational bulletin, compiled by the
+bachelors for distribution among themselves.</p>
+
+<p>"... data compiled from old publications," the fragment began, "and
+interpreted by our most reliable authorities." At that point a part of
+the page was burned away. "... and perhaps less than ninety years ago
+men and women lived in equality. The evidence on that point is
+entirely conclusive. The present matriarchy evolved by accident, not
+design. Ninety years ago entertainment and advertising were
+exclusively directed at satisfying a woman's whim. No product was sold
+without some sort of tie-in with women. Fiction, drama, television,
+motion pictures&mdash;all glorified a romantic thing called love. In that
+same period business was in the process of taking over government from
+statesmen and politicians. Women, of course, were the stockholders who
+owned big business, although the directors and managers at that time
+were still men&mdash;operating under the illusion that they were the
+executives who represented ownership. In effect, however, women owned
+the country and women governed it; suddenly the matriarchy existed.
+There is no evidence that it was imposed; there is no suggestion of
+civil strife or...." More words burned away. "However, the women were
+not unwilling to consolidate their gains. Consequently the popular
+cliches, the pretty romances, and the catchwords of advertising became
+a substitute for reality. As for the compound...."</p>
+
+<p>There the fragment ended. Much of it George did not understand. But it
+gave him a great deal of courage simply to know the bachelors actually
+existed. He began to plan his own escape to a bachelor hideout. He
+would have no opportunity, no freedom of any sort, until he married.
+Every boy was rigidly isolated in his confinement cubicle, under the
+watchful eye of his mother's spy-cameras, until he was bought in his
+first marriage.</p>
+
+<p>Then, as he thought more about it, George realized there was a better
+way for him to use his immunity. He couldn't be sure of finding a
+bachelor hideout before the Morals Squad tracked him down. But George
+could force his bride to tell him where the compound was made, since
+he was not an addict and she could not use the compound to enslave
+him. Once he knew the location of the factory, he would destroy it.
+How, he wasn't sure; he didn't plan that far ahead. If the supply of
+the drug could be interrupted, many hundreds of men might be goaded
+into making a break for the hills.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_t.jpg" alt="T" width="36" height="40" /></div>
+
+<p>he duty bell rang. George snapped to attention on the edge of his
+bunk. He saw his mother waving from the back door of her house.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll be down right away, Mummy."</p>
+
+<p>His mother was waiting for him in the pantry. Under the glaring
+overhead light he stopped for her last minute inspection. She used a
+pocket-stick to touch up a spot on his chest where the oil gleam had
+faded a little. And she gave him a glass of the compound to drink.</p>
+
+<p>"Jenny really wants to marry you, George," she confided. "I know the
+symptoms; half our battle's won for us. And my former husband won't be
+around to worry us with his aches and pains. I made the trade this
+afternoon."</p>
+
+<p>He followed her into the dining room where the cocktails were being
+served. Aside from the Harpers, George's mother had rented two
+handsome, muscular escorts for his sisters. In the confusion, George
+saw Jenny Harper's mother stealthily lace his water glass with a dose
+of the compound. He suppressed a grin. Apparently she was anxious to
+complete the deal, too.</p>
+
+<p>George found it almost impossible to hold back hilarious laughter when
+Jenny herself shyly pressed a capsule of the compound into his hand
+and asked him to use it. Three full-size slugs of the drug! George
+wondered what would have happened if he hadn't been immune.
+Fortunately, he knew how to act the lusty, eager, drooling male which
+each of the women expected.</p>
+
+<p>The negotiations moved along without a hitch. George's mother held out
+for twenty-eight thousand shares, and got it. The only problem left
+was the date for the wedding, and Jenny settled that very quickly. "I
+want my man, Mom," she said, "and I want him now."</p>
+
+<p>Jenny always got what she wanted.</p>
+
+<p>When she and her mother left that evening, she held George's hand in
+hers and whispered earnestly, "So they were married and lived happily
+ever after. That's the way it's going to be with us, isn't it,
+George?"</p>
+
+<p>"It's up to you, Jenny; for as long as you want me."</p>
+
+<p>That was the conventional answer which he was expected to make, but he
+saw unmasked disappointment in her face. She wanted something more
+genuine, with more of himself in it. He felt suddenly sorry for her,
+for the way he was going to use her. She was a pretty girl, even sweet
+and innocent&mdash;if those words still had any real meaning left after
+what his mother's world had done to them. Under other circumstances,
+George would have looked forward with keen pleasure to marrying Jenny.
+As it was, Jenny Harper was first a symbol of the fakery he intended
+to destroy, and after that a woman.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_f.jpg" alt="F" width="33" height="40" /></div>
+<p>ive days later they were married. In spite of the short engagement,
+Mrs. Harper and George's mother managed to put on a splendid show in
+the church. George received a business sedan from his mother, the
+traditional gift given every bridegroom; and from Mrs. Harper he
+received a good job in a company where she was the majority
+stockholder. And so, in the customary pageantry and ceremony, George
+became Mr. Harper.</p>
+
+<p>"Think of it&mdash;Mr. Harper," Jenny sighed, clinging to his arm. "Now
+you're really mine, George."</p>
+
+<p>On the church steps the newlyweds posed for photographs&mdash;George in the
+plain, white trunks which symbolized a first marriage; Jenny in a
+dazzling cloud of fluff, suggestively nearly transparent. Then Mrs.
+Harper drew Jenny aside and whispered in her daughter's ear: the
+traditional telling of the secret. Now Jenny knew where the compound
+was manufactured; and for George revenge was within his grasp.</p>
+
+<p>George's mother had arranged for their honeymoon at Memory Lodge, a
+resort not far from the Directorate capital in Hollywood. It was the
+national capital as well, though everyone conscientiously maintained
+the pretense that Washington, with an all-male Congress, still
+governed the country. George considered himself lucky that his mother
+had chosen Memory Lodge. He had already planned to desert Jenny in the
+mountains.</p>
+
+<p>George knew how to drive; his mother had wanted him to do a great deal
+of chauffeuring for her. But he had never driven beyond town, and he
+had never driven anywhere alone. His mother gave him a map on which
+his route to the lodge was indicated in bright red. In the foothills
+George left the marked highway on a paved side road.</p>
+
+<p>He gambled that Jenny wouldn't immediately realize what he had done,
+and the gamble paid off. Still wearing her nearly transparent wedding
+gown, she pressed close to him and ran her hands constantly over his
+naked chest, thoroughly satisfied with the man she had bought. In the
+church George had been given a tall glass of the compound; he acted
+the part Jenny expected.</p>
+
+<p>But it was far less a role he played than George wanted to admit. His
+body sang with excitement. He found it very difficult to hold the
+excitement in check. If he had been addicted to the compound, it would
+have been out of the question. More than ever before he sympathized
+with the men who were enslaved by love. In spite of his own immunity,
+he nearly yielded to the sensuous appeal of her caress. He held the
+wheel so hard his knuckles went white; he clenched his teeth until his
+jaw ached.</p>
+
+<p>All afternoon George drove aimless mountain roads, moving deeper into
+the uninhabited canyons. Carefully judging his distances with an eye
+on the map, he saw to it that he remained relatively close to the
+city; after he forced Jenny to give him the information he wanted, he
+wanted to be able to get out fast.</p>
+
+<p>By dusk the roads he drove were no longer paved. Ruts carved deep by
+spring rains suggested long disuse. The swaying of the car and the
+constant grinding of gears eventually jolted Jenny out of her romantic
+dreams. She moved away from George and sat looking at the pines which
+met above the road.</p>
+
+<p>"We're lost, aren't we?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"What's that?" he shouted to be heard above the roar of the motor.</p>
+
+<p>"Lost!"</p>
+
+<p>For a minute or two longer he continued to drive until he saw an open
+space under the trees. He pulled the car into the clearing and snapped
+off the ignition. Then he looked Jenny full in the face and answered
+her. "No, Jenny, we aren't lost; I know exactly what I'm doing."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh." He was sure she had understood him, but she said, "We can spend
+the night here and find the lodge in the morning. It's a pity we
+didn't bring something to eat." She smiled ingenuously. "But I brought
+the compound; and we have each other."</p>
+
+<p>They got out of the car. Jenny looked up at the sunset, dull red above
+the trees, and shivered; she asked George to build a fire. He tucked
+the ignition key into the band of his white trunks and began to gather
+dry boughs and pine needles from the floor of the forest. He found
+several large branches and carried them back to the clearing. There
+was enough wood to last until morning&mdash;whether he stayed that long or
+not. Jenny had lugged the seats and a blanket out of the car and
+improvised a lean-to close to the fire.</p>
+
+<p>He piled on two of the larger branches and the bright glow of flame
+lit their faces. She beckoned to him and gave him a bottle of the
+compound, watching bright-eyed as he emptied it.</p>
+
+<p>With her lips parted, she waited. He did nothing. Slowly the light
+died in her eyes. Like a savage she flung herself into his arms. He
+steeled himself to show absolutely no reaction and finally she drew
+away. Trembling and with tears in her eyes, she whispered, "The
+compound doesn't&mdash;" The look of pain in her eyes turned to terror.
+"You're immune!"</p>
+
+<p>"Now you know."</p>
+
+<p>"But who told you&mdash;" She searched his face, shaking her head. "You
+don't know, do you&mdash;not really?"</p>
+
+<p>"Know what?"</p>
+
+<p>Instead of replying, she asked, "You brought me here deliberately,
+didn't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"So we wouldn't be interrupted. You see, Jenny, you're going to tell
+me where the compound's made."</p>
+
+<p>"It wouldn't do you any good. Don't you see&mdash;" He closed his hands on
+her wrists and jerked her rudely to her feet. He saw her face go
+white. And no wonder: that magnificent, granite hard body, which she
+had bought in good faith for her own pleasure, was suddenly out of her
+control. He grinned. He crushed her mouth against his and kissed her.
+Limp in his arms, she clung to him and said in a choked, husky
+whisper, "I love you, George."</p>
+
+<p>"And you'll make any sacrifice for love," he replied, mocking the
+dialogue of the television love stories.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, anything!"</p>
+
+<p>"Then tell me where the compound's manufactured."</p>
+
+<p>"Hold me close, George; never let me go."</p>
+
+<p>How many times had he heard that particular line! It sickened him,
+hearing it now from Jenny; he had expected something better of her. He
+pushed her from him. By accident his fist raked her face. She fell
+back blood trickling from her mouth. In her eyes he saw shock and a
+vague sense of pain; but both were overridden by adoration. She was
+like a whipped puppy, ready to lick his hand.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll tell you, George," she whispered. "But don't leave me." She
+pulled herself to her feet and stood beside him, reaching for his
+hand. "We make it in Hollywood, in the Directorate Building, the part
+that used to be a sound stage."</p>
+
+<p>"Thanks, Jenny." He picked up one of the car seats and walked back to
+the sedan. She stood motionless watching him. He fitted the seat in
+place and put the key in the lock. The starter ground away, but the
+motor did not turn over.</p>
+
+<p>He glanced back at Jenny. She was smiling inscrutably, "You see,
+George, you have to stay with me."</p>
+
+<p>He got out of the car and moved toward her.</p>
+
+<p>"I was afraid you were planning to desert me," she went on, "so I took
+out the distributor cap while you were getting the firewood."</p>
+
+<p>He stood in front of her. Coldly he demanded, "Where did you put it,
+Jenny?"</p>
+
+<p>She tilted her lips toward his. "Kiss and tell&mdash;maybe."</p>
+
+<p>"I haven't time for games. Where is it?"</p>
+
+<p>His fist shot out. Jenny sprawled on the ground at his feet. Again he
+saw the pain and the adoration in her face. But that couldn't be
+right. She would hate him by this time.</p>
+
+<p>He yanked her to her feet. Her lips were still bleeding and blood came
+now from a wound in her cheek. Yet she managed to smile again.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't want to hurt you, Jenny," he told her. "But I have to have&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I love you, George. I never thought I'd want to give myself to a man.
+All the buying doesn't make any difference, does it? Not really. And I
+never knew that before!"</p>
+
+<p>With an unconscious movement, she kicked her train aside and he saw
+the distributor cap lying beneath it. He picked it up. She flung
+herself at him screaming. He felt the hammer beat of her heart; her
+fingers dug into his back like cat claws. Now it didn't matter. He had
+the secret; he could go whenever he wanted to. Nonetheless he pushed
+her away&mdash;tenderly, and with regret. To surrender like this was no
+better than a capitulation to the compound. It was instinctively
+important to make her understand that. He knew that much, but his
+emotions were churned too close to fever pitch for him to reason out
+what else that implied.</p>
+
+<p>He clipped her neatly on the jaw and put her unconscious body on the
+ground by the fire. He left the map with her so she could find her way
+out in the morning; he knew it was really a very short hike to a
+highway, where she would be picked up by a passing car or truck.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+<div class="figleft"><img src="images/image_h.jpg" alt="H" width="34" height="40" /></div>
+<p>e drove out the way he had come in&mdash;at least he tried to remember.
+Four times he took a wrong turn and had to backtrack. It was,
+therefore, dawn before he reached the outskirts of Hollywood. In any
+other city he would not have been conspicuous&mdash;simply a man on his way
+to work; only women slept late. However, Hollywood was off-limits to
+every male. The city was not only the seat of the Directorate, but the
+manufacturing center for the cosmetics industry. And since that gave
+women her charm, it was a business no man worked at.</p>
+
+<p>George had to have a disguise. He stopped on a residential street,
+where the people were still likely to be in their beds. He read names
+on mail boxes until he found a house where an unmarried woman lived.
+He had no way of knowing if she had a husband on approval with her,
+but the box was marked "Miss." With any luck he might have got what he
+wanted without disturbing her, but the woman was a light sleeper and
+she caught him as he was putting on the dress. He was sorry he had to
+slug her, but she gave him no resistance. A spark of hope, a spark of
+long-forgotten youth glowed in her eyes; before she slid into
+unconsciousness.</p>
+
+<p>Wearing the stolen dress, which fit him like a tent, and an enormous
+hat to hide his face, George parked his sedan near the Directorate
+and entered the building when it opened at eight. In room after room
+automatons demonstrated how to dress correctly; robot faces displayed
+the uses of cosmetics. There were displays of kitchen gadgets,
+appliances, and other heavy machinery for the home; recorded lectures
+on stock management and market control. Here women came from every
+part of the country for advice, help and guidance. Here the Top
+Directors met to plan business policy, to govern the nation, and to
+supervise the production of the compound. For only the Top
+Directors&mdash;less than a dozen women&mdash;actually knew the formula. Like
+their stockholdings, the secret was hereditary, passed from mother to
+daughter.</p>
+
+<p>George searched every floor of the building, but found nothing except
+exhibit rooms. Time passed, and still he did not find what he had come
+for. More and more women crowded in to see the exhibits. Several times
+he found new-comers examining him oddly; he found he had to avoid the
+crowds.</p>
+
+<p>Eventually he went down steps into the basement, though a door marked
+"Keep Out." The door was neither locked nor guarded, but there was a
+remote chance it might lead to the production center for the compound.
+In the basement George found a mechanical operation underway; at first
+he took it for another cosmetic exhibit. Conveyor belts delivered
+barrels of flavoring syrup, alcohol and a widely advertised liquid
+vitamin compound. Machines sliced open the containers, dumping the
+contents into huge vats, from which pipes emptied the mixture into
+passing rows of bottles.</p>
+
+<p>The bottles: suddenly George recognized them and the truth dawned on
+him, sickeningly. Here was the manufacturing center for the
+compound&mdash;but it might just as well have been a barn in Connecticut or
+a store window in Manhattan. No man was enslaved by the compound, for
+the compound did not exist. He was imprisoned by his own sense of
+guilt, his own fear of being different. George remembered his own fear
+and guilt: he knew how much a man could be driven to make himself
+conform to what he thought other men were like.</p>
+
+<p>His revenge was as foolish as the sham he wanted to destroy. He should
+have reasoned that out long ago; he should have realized it was
+impossible to have immunity to an addictive drug. But, no, George
+believed what he saw on the television programs. He was victimized as
+much as any man had ever been.</p>
+
+<p>He turned blindly toward the stairway, and from the shadows in the
+hall the Morals Squad closed in around him. With a final gesture of
+defiance, he ripped off the stolen dress and the absurd hat, and stood
+waiting for the blast from their guns. An old woman, wearing the
+shoulder insignia of a Top Director, pushed through the squad and
+faced him, a revolver in her hand. She was neither angry nor
+disturbed. Her voice, when she spoke, was filled with pity. Pity! That
+was the final indignity.</p>
+
+<p>"Now you know the truth," she said. "A few men always have to try it;
+and we usually let them see this room and find out for themselves
+before&mdash;before we close the case."</p>
+
+<p>Tensely he demanded, "Just how much longer do you think&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"We can get away with this? As long as men are human beings. It's
+easier to make yourself believe a lie if you think everyone else
+believes it, than to believe a truth you've found out on your own. All
+of us want more than anything else to be like other people. Women have
+created a world for you with television programs; you grow up
+observing nothing else; you make yourself fit into the pattern. Only a
+few independent-minded characters have the courage to accept their own
+immunity; most of them end up here, trying to do something noble for
+the rest of mankind. But you have one satisfaction, for what it's
+worth: you've been true to yourself."</p>
+
+<p><i>True to yourself.</i> George found a strange comfort in the words, and
+his fear was gone. He squared his shoulders and faced the mouth of her
+gun. <i>True to yourself</i>: that was something worth dying for.</p>
+
+<p>He saw a flicker of emotion in the old woman's eyes. Admiration? He
+couldn't be sure. For at the moment a shot rang out from the end of
+the corridor; and the Top Director fell back, nursing a hand suddenly
+bright with blood.</p>
+
+<p>"Let him go." It was Jenny's voice. She was sheltered by a partly open
+door at the foot of the stairway.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't be a fool," the old woman replied. "He's seen too much."</p>
+
+<p>"It doesn't matter. Who would believe him?"</p>
+
+<p>"You're upset. You don't realize&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"He's mine and I want him."</p>
+
+<p>"The Directorate will give you a refund of the purchase price."</p>
+
+<p>"You didn't understand me. I don't want one of your pretty automatons;
+anybody can buy them for a few shares of stock. I want a man&mdash;a real
+man; I want to belong to him."</p>
+
+<p>"He belongs to you; you bought him."</p>
+
+<p>"And that's what's wrong. We really belong to each other."</p>
+
+<p>The old woman glanced at George and he saw the same flicker of feeling
+in her eyes. And tears, tears of regret. Why? "We have you
+outnumbered," the old woman said quietly to Jenny.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't care. I have a gun; I'll use it as long as I'm able."</p>
+
+<p>The Morals Squad raised their weapons. The Director shook her head
+imperiously and they snapped to attention again. "If you take him from
+us," she called out to Jenny, "you'll be outlawed. We'll hunt you
+down, if we can."</p>
+
+<p>"I want him," Jenny persisted. "I don't care about the rest of it."</p>
+
+<p>The old woman nodded to George. He couldn't believe that she meant it.
+The Director was on her home ground, in her headquarters building,
+backed by an armed squad of stone-faced Amazons. She had no reason to
+let him go.</p>
+
+<p>She walked beside him as he moved down the hall. When they were
+twenty feet from the guard, she closed her thin hand on his arm; her
+eyes swam with tears and she whispered, "There truly is a love potion.
+Not this nonsense we bottle here, but something real and very
+worthwhile. You and this girl have found it. I know that, from the way
+she talks. She doesn't say anything about ownership, and that's as it
+should be. As it has to be, for any of us to be happy. Hold tight to
+that all the rest of your life. Don't ever believe in words; don't
+fall for any more love stories; believe what you feel deep
+inside&mdash;what you know yourself to be true.</p>
+
+<p>"You men who learn how to break away are our only hope, too. Most of
+us don't see that yet. I do; I know what it used to be like. Someday
+there may be enough men with the stamina to take back the place of
+dominance that we stole from them. We thought we wanted it; for
+decades before we had been screaming about women's rights." Her thin
+lips twisted in a sneer and she spat her disgust. "Finally we took
+what we wanted, and it turned to ashes in our hands. We made our men
+playthings; we made them slaves. And after that they weren't men any
+more. But what we stole isn't the sort of thing you can hand back on a
+silver platter; you men have to get enough courage to take it away
+from us."</p>
+
+<p>Her grip tightened on his arm. "There's a fire door at the end of the
+hall; if you push the emergency button, you'll close it. That will
+give you a five or ten minute start. I can't help you any more...."</p>
+
+<p>They were abreast of Jenny. She seized Jenny's hand and thrust it into
+his. "Beat it, kids; there's a bachelor camp on the north ridge. You
+can make it.</p>
+
+<p>"And from here on in, what he says goes," the old woman added. "Don't
+forget that."</p>
+
+<p>"She won't," George answered, supremely self-assured.</p>
+
+<p>He took Jenny's arm and, turning abruptly, they made their break for
+freedom. The Director managed to remain standing in the middle of the
+corridor, making a dangerous target of herself so that none of the
+Morals Squad could risk a shot at the fugitives. As the fire door
+clanged shut George looked back. He saw the old woman's lips moving in
+silent prayer.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Love Story, by Irving E. Cox, Jr.
+
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+</pre>
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+</body>
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Love Story, by Irving E. Cox, Jr.
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Love Story
+
+Author: Irving E. Cox, Jr.
+
+Illustrator: Paul Orban
+
+Release Date: April 21, 2010 [EBook #32078]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LOVE STORY ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Sankar Viswanathan, Greg Weeks, and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ Transcriber's Note:
+
+ This etext was produced from If Worlds of Science Fiction April 1956.
+ Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S.
+ copyright on this publication was renewed.
+
+
+ _love story_
+
+
+ BY IRVING E. COX, JR.
+
+
+ _Illustrated by Paul Orban_
+
+
+ _Everything was aimed at satisfying the whims of women. The
+ popular cliches, the pretty romances, the catchwords of
+ advertising became realities; and the compound kept the men
+ enslaved. George knew what he had to do...._
+
+ * * * * *
+
+
+
+
+The duty bell rang and obediently George clattered down the steps from his
+confinement cubicle over the garage. His mother's chartreuse-colored
+Cadillac convertible purred to a stop in the drive.
+
+"It's so sweet of you to come, Georgie," his mother said when George
+opened the door for her.
+
+"Whenever you need me, Mummy." It was no effort at all to keep the
+sneer out of his voice. Deception had become a part of his character.
+
+His mother squeezed his arm. "I can always count on my little boy to
+do the right thing."
+
+"Yes, Mummy." They were mouthing a formula of words. They were both
+very much aware that if George hadn't snapped to attention as soon as
+the duty bell rang, he risked being sentenced, at least temporarily,
+to the national hero's corps.
+
+Still in the customary, martyr's whisper, George's mother said, "This
+has been such a tiring day. A man can never understand what a woman
+has to endure, Georgie; my life is such an ordeal." Her tone turned at
+once coldly practical. "I've two packages in the trunk; carry them to
+the house for me."
+
+George picked up the cardboard boxes and followed her along the brick
+walk in the direction of the white, Colonial mansion where his mother
+and her two daughters and her current husband lived. George, being a
+boy, was allowed in the house only when his mother invited him, or
+when he was being shown off to a prospective bride. George was
+nineteen, the most acceptable marriage age; because he had a
+magnificent build and the reputation for being a good boy, his mother
+was rumored to be asking twenty thousand shares for him.
+
+As they passed the rose arbor, his mother dropped on the wooden seat
+and drew George down beside her. "I've a surprise for you, George--a
+new bidder. Mrs. Harper is thinking about you for her daughter."
+
+"Jenny Harper?" Suddenly his throat was dust dry with excitement.
+
+"You'd like that, wouldn't you, Georgie?"
+
+"Whatever arrangement you make, Mummy." Jenny Harper was one of the
+few outsiders George had occasionally seen as he grew up. She was
+approximately his age, a stunning, dark-eyed brunette.
+
+"Jenny and her mother are coming to dinner to talk over a marriage
+settlement." Speculatively she ran her hand over the tanned,
+muscle-hard curve of his upper arm. "You're anxious to have your own
+woman, aren't you, George?"
+
+"So I can begin to work for her, Mummy." That, at least, was the
+correct answer, if not an honest one.
+
+"And begin taking the compound every day." His mother smiled. "Oh, I
+know you wicked boys! Put on your dress trunks tonight. We want Jenny
+to see you at your best."
+
+She got up and strode toward the house again. George followed
+respectfully two paces behind her. As they passed beyond the garden
+hedge, she saw the old business coupe parked in the delivery court.
+Her body stiffened in anger. "Why is your father home so early, may I
+ask?" It was an accusation, rather than a question.
+
+"I don't know, Mother. I heard my sisters talking in the yard; I think
+he was taken sick at work."
+
+"Sick! Some men never stop pampering themselves."
+
+"They said it was a heart attack or--"
+
+"Ridiculous; he isn't dead, is he? Georgie, this is the last straw. I
+intend to trade your father in today on a younger man." She snatched
+the two packages from him and stormed into the house.
+
+Since his mother hadn't asked him in, George returned to his
+confinement cubicle in the garage. He felt sorry, in an impersonal
+way, for the husband his mother was about to dispose of, but otherwise
+the fate of the old man was quite normal. He had outlived his economic
+usefulness; George had seen it happen before. His real father had died
+a natural death--from strain and overwork--when George was four. His
+mother had since then bought four other husbands; but, because boys
+were brought up in rigid isolation, George had known none of them
+well. For the same reason, he had no personal friends.
+
+He climbed the narrow stairway to his cubicle. It was already late
+afternoon, almost time for dinner. He showered and oiled his body
+carefully, before he put on his dress trunks, briefs made of black
+silk studded with seed pearls and small diamonds. He was permitted to
+wear the jewels because his mother's stockholdings were large enough
+to make her an Associate Director. His family status gave George a
+high marriage value and his Adonis physique kicked the asking price
+still higher. At nineteen he stood more than six feet tall, even
+without his formal, high-heeled boots. He weighed one hundred and
+eighty-five, not an ounce of it superfluous fat. His skin was deeply
+bronzed by the sunlamps in the gym; his eyes were sapphire blue; his
+crewcut was a platinum blond--thanks to the peroxide wash his mother
+made him use.
+
+Observing himself critically in the full-length mirror, George knew
+his mother was justified in asking twenty thousand shares for him.
+Marriage was an essential part of his own plans; without it revenge
+was out of his reach. He desperately hoped the deal would be made with
+Jenny Harper. A young woman would be far less difficult for him to
+handle.
+
+When the oil on his skin was dry, he lay down on his bunk to catch up
+on his required viewing until the duty bell called him to the house.
+The automatic circuit snapped on the television screen above his bunk;
+wearily George fixed his eyes on the unreeling love story.
+
+For as long as he could remember, television had been a fundamental
+part of his education. A federal law required every male to watch the
+TV romances three hours a day. Failure to do so--and that was
+determined by monthly form tests mailed out by the Directorate--meant
+a three month sentence to the national hero's corps. If the statistics
+periodically published by the Directorate were true, George was a
+relatively rare case, having survived adolescence without serving a
+single tour of duty as a national hero. For that he indirectly thanked
+his immunity to the compound. Fear and guilt kept him so much on his
+toes, he grew up an amazingly well-disciplined child.
+
+George was aware that the television romances were designed to shape
+his attitudes and his emotional reactions. The stories endlessly
+repeated his mother's philosophy. All men were pictured as beasts
+crudely dominated by lust. Women, on the other hand, were always
+sensitive, delicate, modest, and intelligent; their martyrdom to the
+men in their lives was called love. To pay for their animal lusts, men
+were expected to slave away their lives earning things--kitchen
+gadgets, household appliances, fancy cars, luxuries and
+stockholdings--for their patient, long-suffering wives.
+
+_And it's all a fake!_ George thought. He had seen his Mother drive
+two men to their graves and trade off two others because they hadn't
+produced luxuries as fast as she demanded. His mother and his
+pinch-faced sisters were pampered, selfish, rock-hard Amazons; by no
+conceivable twist of imagination could they be called martyrs to
+anything.
+
+That seemed self-evident, but George had no way of knowing if any
+other man had ever reasoned out the same conclusion. Maybe he was
+unique because of his immunity to the compound. He was sure that very
+few men--possibly none--had reached marriage age with their immunity
+still undiscovered.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+George was lucky, in a way: he knew the truth about himself when he
+was seven, and he had time to adjust to it--to plan the role he had
+been acting for the past twelve years. His early childhood had been a
+livid nightmare, primarily because of the precocious cruelty of his
+two sisters. Shortly before his seventh birthday they forced him to
+take part in a game they called cocktail party. The game involved only
+one activity: the two little girls filled a glass with an unidentified
+liquid, and ordered George to drink. Afterward, dancing up and down in
+girlish glee, they said they had given him the compound.
+
+George had seen the love stories on television; he knew how he was
+expected to act. He gave a good performance--better than his sisters
+realized, for inside his mind George was in turmoil. They had given
+him the compound (true, years before he should have taken it), and
+nothing had happened. He had felt absolutely nothing; he was immune!
+If anyone had ever found out, George would have been given a life
+sentence to the national hero's corps; or, more probably, the Morals
+Squad would have disposed of him altogether.
+
+From that day on, George lived with guilt and fear. As the years
+passed, he several times stole capsules of the compound from his
+mother's love-cabinet and gulped them down. Sometimes he felt a little
+giddy, and once he was sick. But he experienced no reaction which
+could possibly be defined as love. Not that he had any idea what that
+reaction should have been, but he knew he was supposed to feel very
+wicked and he never did.
+
+Each failure increased the agony of guilt; George drove himself to be
+far better behaved than he was required to be. He dreaded making one
+mistake. If his mother or a Director examined it too closely, they
+might find out his real secret.
+
+George's basic education began when he was assigned to his confinement
+room above the garage after his tenth birthday. Thereafter his time
+was thoroughly regulated by law. Three hours a day he watched
+television; three hours he spent in his gym, building a
+magnificent--and salable--body; for four hours he listened to the
+educational tapes. Arithmetic, economics, salesmanship, business
+techniques, accounting, mechanics, practical science: the things he
+had to know in order to earn a satisfactory living for the woman who
+bought him in marriage.
+
+He learned nothing else and as he grew older he became very conscious
+of the gaps in his education. For instance, what of the past? Had the
+world always been this sham he lived in? That question he had the good
+sense not to ask.
+
+But George had learned enough from his lessons in practical science to
+guess what the compound really was, what it had to be: a mixture of
+aphrodisiacs and a habit-forming drug. The compound was calculated to
+stir up a man's desire to the point where he would give up anything in
+order to satisfy it. Boys were given increased doses during their
+adolescence; by the time they married, they were addicts, unable to
+leave the compound alone.
+
+George couldn't prove his conclusion. He had no idea how many other
+men had followed the same line of reasoning and come up with the same
+answer. But why was George immune? There was only one way he could
+figure it: it must have happened because his sisters gave him the
+first draft when he was seven. But logically that didn't make much
+sense.
+
+Bachelors were another sort of enemy: men who shirked their duty and
+deserted their wives. It seemed unreasonable to believe a man could
+desert his wife, when first he had to break himself of addiction to
+the compound. George had always supposed that bachelor was a boogy
+word contrived to frighten growing children.
+
+As a consequence, he was very surprised when the house next door was
+raided. Through the window of his confinement cubicle, he actually saw
+the five gray-haired men who were rounded up by the Morals Squad. The
+Squad--heavily armed, six-foot Amazons--tried to question their
+captives. They used injections of a truth serum. Two of the old men
+died at once. The others went berserk, frothing at the mouth and
+screaming animal profanity until the Squad captain ordered them shot.
+
+George overheard one of the women say, "It's always like this. They
+take something so our serum can't be effective."
+
+Later that afternoon George found a scrap of paper in his mother's
+garden. It had blown out of the bonfire which the Morals Squad made of
+the papers they took out of the house next door. The burned page had
+apparently been part of an informational bulletin, compiled by the
+bachelors for distribution among themselves.
+
+"... data compiled from old publications," the fragment began, "and
+interpreted by our most reliable authorities." At that point a part of
+the page was burned away. "... and perhaps less than ninety years ago
+men and women lived in equality. The evidence on that point is
+entirely conclusive. The present matriarchy evolved by accident, not
+design. Ninety years ago entertainment and advertising were
+exclusively directed at satisfying a woman's whim. No product was sold
+without some sort of tie-in with women. Fiction, drama, television,
+motion pictures--all glorified a romantic thing called love. In that
+same period business was in the process of taking over government from
+statesmen and politicians. Women, of course, were the stockholders who
+owned big business, although the directors and managers at that time
+were still men--operating under the illusion that they were the
+executives who represented ownership. In effect, however, women owned
+the country and women governed it; suddenly the matriarchy existed.
+There is no evidence that it was imposed; there is no suggestion of
+civil strife or...." More words burned away. "However, the women were
+not unwilling to consolidate their gains. Consequently the popular
+cliches, the pretty romances, and the catchwords of advertising became
+a substitute for reality. As for the compound...."
+
+There the fragment ended. Much of it George did not understand. But it
+gave him a great deal of courage simply to know the bachelors actually
+existed. He began to plan his own escape to a bachelor hideout. He
+would have no opportunity, no freedom of any sort, until he married.
+Every boy was rigidly isolated in his confinement cubicle, under the
+watchful eye of his mother's spy-cameras, until he was bought in his
+first marriage.
+
+Then, as he thought more about it, George realized there was a better
+way for him to use his immunity. He couldn't be sure of finding a
+bachelor hideout before the Morals Squad tracked him down. But George
+could force his bride to tell him where the compound was made, since
+he was not an addict and she could not use the compound to enslave
+him. Once he knew the location of the factory, he would destroy it.
+How, he wasn't sure; he didn't plan that far ahead. If the supply of
+the drug could be interrupted, many hundreds of men might be goaded
+into making a break for the hills.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+The duty bell rang. George snapped to attention on the edge of his
+bunk. He saw his mother waving from the back door of her house.
+
+"I'll be down right away, Mummy."
+
+His mother was waiting for him in the pantry. Under the glaring
+overhead light he stopped for her last minute inspection. She used a
+pocket-stick to touch up a spot on his chest where the oil gleam had
+faded a little. And she gave him a glass of the compound to drink.
+
+"Jenny really wants to marry you, George," she confided. "I know the
+symptoms; half our battle's won for us. And my former husband won't be
+around to worry us with his aches and pains. I made the trade this
+afternoon."
+
+He followed her into the dining room where the cocktails were being
+served. Aside from the Harpers, George's mother had rented two
+handsome, muscular escorts for his sisters. In the confusion, George
+saw Jenny Harper's mother stealthily lace his water glass with a dose
+of the compound. He suppressed a grin. Apparently she was anxious to
+complete the deal, too.
+
+George found it almost impossible to hold back hilarious laughter when
+Jenny herself shyly pressed a capsule of the compound into his hand
+and asked him to use it. Three full-size slugs of the drug! George
+wondered what would have happened if he hadn't been immune.
+Fortunately, he knew how to act the lusty, eager, drooling male which
+each of the women expected.
+
+The negotiations moved along without a hitch. George's mother held out
+for twenty-eight thousand shares, and got it. The only problem left
+was the date for the wedding, and Jenny settled that very quickly. "I
+want my man, Mom," she said, "and I want him now."
+
+Jenny always got what she wanted.
+
+When she and her mother left that evening, she held George's hand in
+hers and whispered earnestly, "So they were married and lived happily
+ever after. That's the way it's going to be with us, isn't it,
+George?"
+
+"It's up to you, Jenny; for as long as you want me."
+
+That was the conventional answer which he was expected to make, but he
+saw unmasked disappointment in her face. She wanted something more
+genuine, with more of himself in it. He felt suddenly sorry for her,
+for the way he was going to use her. She was a pretty girl, even sweet
+and innocent--if those words still had any real meaning left after
+what his mother's world had done to them. Under other circumstances,
+George would have looked forward with keen pleasure to marrying Jenny.
+As it was, Jenny Harper was first a symbol of the fakery he intended
+to destroy, and after that a woman.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+Five days later they were married. In spite of the short engagement,
+Mrs. Harper and George's mother managed to put on a splendid show in
+the church. George received a business sedan from his mother, the
+traditional gift given every bridegroom; and from Mrs. Harper he
+received a good job in a company where she was the majority
+stockholder. And so, in the customary pageantry and ceremony, George
+became Mr. Harper.
+
+"Think of it--Mr. Harper," Jenny sighed, clinging to his arm. "Now
+you're really mine, George."
+
+On the church steps the newlyweds posed for photographs--George in the
+plain, white trunks which symbolized a first marriage; Jenny in a
+dazzling cloud of fluff, suggestively nearly transparent. Then Mrs.
+Harper drew Jenny aside and whispered in her daughter's ear: the
+traditional telling of the secret. Now Jenny knew where the compound
+was manufactured; and for George revenge was within his grasp.
+
+George's mother had arranged for their honeymoon at Memory Lodge, a
+resort not far from the Directorate capital in Hollywood. It was the
+national capital as well, though everyone conscientiously maintained
+the pretense that Washington, with an all-male Congress, still
+governed the country. George considered himself lucky that his mother
+had chosen Memory Lodge. He had already planned to desert Jenny in the
+mountains.
+
+George knew how to drive; his mother had wanted him to do a great deal
+of chauffeuring for her. But he had never driven beyond town, and he
+had never driven anywhere alone. His mother gave him a map on which
+his route to the lodge was indicated in bright red. In the foothills
+George left the marked highway on a paved side road.
+
+He gambled that Jenny wouldn't immediately realize what he had done,
+and the gamble paid off. Still wearing her nearly transparent wedding
+gown, she pressed close to him and ran her hands constantly over his
+naked chest, thoroughly satisfied with the man she had bought. In the
+church George had been given a tall glass of the compound; he acted
+the part Jenny expected.
+
+But it was far less a role he played than George wanted to admit. His
+body sang with excitement. He found it very difficult to hold the
+excitement in check. If he had been addicted to the compound, it would
+have been out of the question. More than ever before he sympathized
+with the men who were enslaved by love. In spite of his own immunity,
+he nearly yielded to the sensuous appeal of her caress. He held the
+wheel so hard his knuckles went white; he clenched his teeth until his
+jaw ached.
+
+All afternoon George drove aimless mountain roads, moving deeper into
+the uninhabited canyons. Carefully judging his distances with an eye
+on the map, he saw to it that he remained relatively close to the
+city; after he forced Jenny to give him the information he wanted, he
+wanted to be able to get out fast.
+
+By dusk the roads he drove were no longer paved. Ruts carved deep by
+spring rains suggested long disuse. The swaying of the car and the
+constant grinding of gears eventually jolted Jenny out of her romantic
+dreams. She moved away from George and sat looking at the pines which
+met above the road.
+
+"We're lost, aren't we?" she asked.
+
+"What's that?" he shouted to be heard above the roar of the motor.
+
+"Lost!"
+
+For a minute or two longer he continued to drive until he saw an open
+space under the trees. He pulled the car into the clearing and snapped
+off the ignition. Then he looked Jenny full in the face and answered
+her. "No, Jenny, we aren't lost; I know exactly what I'm doing."
+
+"Oh." He was sure she had understood him, but she said, "We can spend
+the night here and find the lodge in the morning. It's a pity we
+didn't bring something to eat." She smiled ingenuously. "But I brought
+the compound; and we have each other."
+
+They got out of the car. Jenny looked up at the sunset, dull red above
+the trees, and shivered; she asked George to build a fire. He tucked
+the ignition key into the band of his white trunks and began to gather
+dry boughs and pine needles from the floor of the forest. He found
+several large branches and carried them back to the clearing. There
+was enough wood to last until morning--whether he stayed that long or
+not. Jenny had lugged the seats and a blanket out of the car and
+improvised a lean-to close to the fire.
+
+He piled on two of the larger branches and the bright glow of flame
+lit their faces. She beckoned to him and gave him a bottle of the
+compound, watching bright-eyed as he emptied it.
+
+With her lips parted, she waited. He did nothing. Slowly the light
+died in her eyes. Like a savage she flung herself into his arms. He
+steeled himself to show absolutely no reaction and finally she drew
+away. Trembling and with tears in her eyes, she whispered, "The
+compound doesn't--" The look of pain in her eyes turned to terror.
+"You're immune!"
+
+"Now you know."
+
+"But who told you--" She searched his face, shaking her head. "You
+don't know, do you--not really?"
+
+"Know what?"
+
+Instead of replying, she asked, "You brought me here deliberately,
+didn't you?"
+
+"So we wouldn't be interrupted. You see, Jenny, you're going to tell
+me where the compound's made."
+
+"It wouldn't do you any good. Don't you see--" He closed his hands on
+her wrists and jerked her rudely to her feet. He saw her face go
+white. And no wonder: that magnificent, granite hard body, which she
+had bought in good faith for her own pleasure, was suddenly out of her
+control. He grinned. He crushed her mouth against his and kissed her.
+Limp in his arms, she clung to him and said in a choked, husky
+whisper, "I love you, George."
+
+"And you'll make any sacrifice for love," he replied, mocking the
+dialogue of the television love stories.
+
+"Yes, anything!"
+
+"Then tell me where the compound's manufactured."
+
+"Hold me close, George; never let me go."
+
+How many times had he heard that particular line! It sickened him,
+hearing it now from Jenny; he had expected something better of her. He
+pushed her from him. By accident his fist raked her face. She fell
+back blood trickling from her mouth. In her eyes he saw shock and a
+vague sense of pain; but both were overridden by adoration. She was
+like a whipped puppy, ready to lick his hand.
+
+"I'll tell you, George," she whispered. "But don't leave me." She
+pulled herself to her feet and stood beside him, reaching for his
+hand. "We make it in Hollywood, in the Directorate Building, the part
+that used to be a sound stage."
+
+"Thanks, Jenny." He picked up one of the car seats and walked back to
+the sedan. She stood motionless watching him. He fitted the seat in
+place and put the key in the lock. The starter ground away, but the
+motor did not turn over.
+
+He glanced back at Jenny. She was smiling inscrutably, "You see,
+George, you have to stay with me."
+
+He got out of the car and moved toward her.
+
+"I was afraid you were planning to desert me," she went on, "so I took
+out the distributor cap while you were getting the firewood."
+
+He stood in front of her. Coldly he demanded, "Where did you put it,
+Jenny?"
+
+She tilted her lips toward his. "Kiss and tell--maybe."
+
+"I haven't time for games. Where is it?"
+
+His fist shot out. Jenny sprawled on the ground at his feet. Again he
+saw the pain and the adoration in her face. But that couldn't be
+right. She would hate him by this time.
+
+He yanked her to her feet. Her lips were still bleeding and blood came
+now from a wound in her cheek. Yet she managed to smile again.
+
+"I don't want to hurt you, Jenny," he told her. "But I have to have--"
+
+"I love you, George. I never thought I'd want to give myself to a man.
+All the buying doesn't make any difference, does it? Not really. And I
+never knew that before!"
+
+With an unconscious movement, she kicked her train aside and he saw
+the distributor cap lying beneath it. He picked it up. She flung
+herself at him screaming. He felt the hammer beat of her heart; her
+fingers dug into his back like cat claws. Now it didn't matter. He had
+the secret; he could go whenever he wanted to. Nonetheless he pushed
+her away--tenderly, and with regret. To surrender like this was no
+better than a capitulation to the compound. It was instinctively
+important to make her understand that. He knew that much, but his
+emotions were churned too close to fever pitch for him to reason out
+what else that implied.
+
+He clipped her neatly on the jaw and put her unconscious body on the
+ground by the fire. He left the map with her so she could find her way
+out in the morning; he knew it was really a very short hike to a
+highway, where she would be picked up by a passing car or truck.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+He drove out the way he had come in--at least he tried to remember.
+Four times he took a wrong turn and had to backtrack. It was,
+therefore, dawn before he reached the outskirts of Hollywood. In any
+other city he would not have been conspicuous--simply a man on his way
+to work; only women slept late. However, Hollywood was off-limits to
+every male. The city was not only the seat of the Directorate, but the
+manufacturing center for the cosmetics industry. And since that gave
+women her charm, it was a business no man worked at.
+
+George had to have a disguise. He stopped on a residential street,
+where the people were still likely to be in their beds. He read names
+on mail boxes until he found a house where an unmarried woman lived.
+He had no way of knowing if she had a husband on approval with her,
+but the box was marked "Miss." With any luck he might have got what he
+wanted without disturbing her, but the woman was a light sleeper and
+she caught him as he was putting on the dress. He was sorry he had to
+slug her, but she gave him no resistance. A spark of hope, a spark of
+long-forgotten youth glowed in her eyes; before she slid into
+unconsciousness.
+
+Wearing the stolen dress, which fit him like a tent, and an enormous
+hat to hide his face, George parked his sedan near the Directorate
+and entered the building when it opened at eight. In room after room
+automatons demonstrated how to dress correctly; robot faces displayed
+the uses of cosmetics. There were displays of kitchen gadgets,
+appliances, and other heavy machinery for the home; recorded lectures
+on stock management and market control. Here women came from every
+part of the country for advice, help and guidance. Here the Top
+Directors met to plan business policy, to govern the nation, and to
+supervise the production of the compound. For only the Top
+Directors--less than a dozen women--actually knew the formula. Like
+their stockholdings, the secret was hereditary, passed from mother to
+daughter.
+
+George searched every floor of the building, but found nothing except
+exhibit rooms. Time passed, and still he did not find what he had come
+for. More and more women crowded in to see the exhibits. Several times
+he found new-comers examining him oddly; he found he had to avoid the
+crowds.
+
+Eventually he went down steps into the basement, though a door marked
+"Keep Out." The door was neither locked nor guarded, but there was a
+remote chance it might lead to the production center for the compound.
+In the basement George found a mechanical operation underway; at first
+he took it for another cosmetic exhibit. Conveyor belts delivered
+barrels of flavoring syrup, alcohol and a widely advertised liquid
+vitamin compound. Machines sliced open the containers, dumping the
+contents into huge vats, from which pipes emptied the mixture into
+passing rows of bottles.
+
+The bottles: suddenly George recognized them and the truth dawned on
+him, sickeningly. Here was the manufacturing center for the
+compound--but it might just as well have been a barn in Connecticut or
+a store window in Manhattan. No man was enslaved by the compound, for
+the compound did not exist. He was imprisoned by his own sense of
+guilt, his own fear of being different. George remembered his own fear
+and guilt: he knew how much a man could be driven to make himself
+conform to what he thought other men were like.
+
+His revenge was as foolish as the sham he wanted to destroy. He should
+have reasoned that out long ago; he should have realized it was
+impossible to have immunity to an addictive drug. But, no, George
+believed what he saw on the television programs. He was victimized as
+much as any man had ever been.
+
+He turned blindly toward the stairway, and from the shadows in the
+hall the Morals Squad closed in around him. With a final gesture of
+defiance, he ripped off the stolen dress and the absurd hat, and stood
+waiting for the blast from their guns. An old woman, wearing the
+shoulder insignia of a Top Director, pushed through the squad and
+faced him, a revolver in her hand. She was neither angry nor
+disturbed. Her voice, when she spoke, was filled with pity. Pity! That
+was the final indignity.
+
+"Now you know the truth," she said. "A few men always have to try it;
+and we usually let them see this room and find out for themselves
+before--before we close the case."
+
+Tensely he demanded, "Just how much longer do you think--"
+
+"We can get away with this? As long as men are human beings. It's
+easier to make yourself believe a lie if you think everyone else
+believes it, than to believe a truth you've found out on your own. All
+of us want more than anything else to be like other people. Women have
+created a world for you with television programs; you grow up
+observing nothing else; you make yourself fit into the pattern. Only a
+few independent-minded characters have the courage to accept their own
+immunity; most of them end up here, trying to do something noble for
+the rest of mankind. But you have one satisfaction, for what it's
+worth: you've been true to yourself."
+
+_True to yourself._ George found a strange comfort in the words, and
+his fear was gone. He squared his shoulders and faced the mouth of her
+gun. _True to yourself_: that was something worth dying for.
+
+He saw a flicker of emotion in the old woman's eyes. Admiration? He
+couldn't be sure. For at the moment a shot rang out from the end of
+the corridor; and the Top Director fell back, nursing a hand suddenly
+bright with blood.
+
+"Let him go." It was Jenny's voice. She was sheltered by a partly open
+door at the foot of the stairway.
+
+"Don't be a fool," the old woman replied. "He's seen too much."
+
+"It doesn't matter. Who would believe him?"
+
+"You're upset. You don't realize--"
+
+"He's mine and I want him."
+
+"The Directorate will give you a refund of the purchase price."
+
+"You didn't understand me. I don't want one of your pretty automatons;
+anybody can buy them for a few shares of stock. I want a man--a real
+man; I want to belong to him."
+
+"He belongs to you; you bought him."
+
+"And that's what's wrong. We really belong to each other."
+
+The old woman glanced at George and he saw the same flicker of feeling
+in her eyes. And tears, tears of regret. Why? "We have you
+outnumbered," the old woman said quietly to Jenny.
+
+"I don't care. I have a gun; I'll use it as long as I'm able."
+
+The Morals Squad raised their weapons. The Director shook her head
+imperiously and they snapped to attention again. "If you take him from
+us," she called out to Jenny, "you'll be outlawed. We'll hunt you
+down, if we can."
+
+"I want him," Jenny persisted. "I don't care about the rest of it."
+
+The old woman nodded to George. He couldn't believe that she meant it.
+The Director was on her home ground, in her headquarters building,
+backed by an armed squad of stone-faced Amazons. She had no reason to
+let him go.
+
+She walked beside him as he moved down the hall. When they were
+twenty feet from the guard, she closed her thin hand on his arm; her
+eyes swam with tears and she whispered, "There truly is a love potion.
+Not this nonsense we bottle here, but something real and very
+worthwhile. You and this girl have found it. I know that, from the way
+she talks. She doesn't say anything about ownership, and that's as it
+should be. As it has to be, for any of us to be happy. Hold tight to
+that all the rest of your life. Don't ever believe in words; don't
+fall for any more love stories; believe what you feel deep
+inside--what you know yourself to be true.
+
+"You men who learn how to break away are our only hope, too. Most of
+us don't see that yet. I do; I know what it used to be like. Someday
+there may be enough men with the stamina to take back the place of
+dominance that we stole from them. We thought we wanted it; for
+decades before we had been screaming about women's rights." Her thin
+lips twisted in a sneer and she spat her disgust. "Finally we took
+what we wanted, and it turned to ashes in our hands. We made our men
+playthings; we made them slaves. And after that they weren't men any
+more. But what we stole isn't the sort of thing you can hand back on a
+silver platter; you men have to get enough courage to take it away
+from us."
+
+Her grip tightened on his arm. "There's a fire door at the end of the
+hall; if you push the emergency button, you'll close it. That will
+give you a five or ten minute start. I can't help you any more...."
+
+They were abreast of Jenny. She seized Jenny's hand and thrust it into
+his. "Beat it, kids; there's a bachelor camp on the north ridge. You
+can make it.
+
+"And from here on in, what he says goes," the old woman added. "Don't
+forget that."
+
+"She won't," George answered, supremely self-assured.
+
+He took Jenny's arm and, turning abruptly, they made their break for
+freedom. The Director managed to remain standing in the middle of the
+corridor, making a dangerous target of herself so that none of the
+Morals Squad could risk a shot at the fugitives. As the fire door
+clanged shut George looked back. He saw the old woman's lips moving in
+silent prayer.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Love Story, by Irving E. Cox, Jr.
+
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